


if anybody ever asks us (let's just tell them that we met in jail)

by belikebumblebee



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 10:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1344277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belikebumblebee/pseuds/belikebumblebee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night is so warm, and the forest is whispering, and Emma has had a little drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if anybody ever asks us (let's just tell them that we met in jail)

**Author's Note:**

> I just have so many feelings.

You step out into the night; the air is tepid and even the way the wind touches the leaves is gentle. You love the susurrus of the forest nearby.  
  
You asked Henry if he wanted to accompany you on your almost-midnight walk, but he was at the turning point of his book and could not tear himself away.  You have to breathe through a wave of love for him when you think about the way he looked up at you with feverish excitement and a _see you later_ _, mom, love you!_ before he went back to his story. His feet have grown so much, he’s almost sixteen now, and it hurts but _sixteen and he’s still whole_ and wonderful; still your little boy.  
  
It’s a saturday night, and it’s beautiful. Not quite summer yet, but the warmth is featherlight and fills you with wistfulness, like something within you is stirring slowly and carefully.  
  
  
 _“I’m a mother”, you say and it tastes confident with a hint of helpless.  
Emma smiles the only possible smile. “I know”, she says. “And besides that, you’re a person, too.”_  
 _You don’t know what that means, except maybe you do._  
  
  
There is a noise close by and you look up.  
  
“Emma”, you say, surprised. “Are you on our way to us?”  
  
Emma doesn’t answer directly, just tilts her head slightly and beholds you for a long moment. “No”, she finally says. Something is not quite right about her.  
  
You take a step towards her. “Then what are you doing here?”  
  
With a faint smile, she raises her left hand and presents her keys dangling from her index finger.  
  
“Had a little drink. Decided not to drive. May have gotten a little lost.”  
  
She buries her fists in the pocket of her coat. You think of loneliness and sleepless nights.  
  
“Well then”, you say quietly and let the breeze carry you over. “I’ll better guide you home, then. Can’t have the town’s sheriff wandering the streets in confusion.”  
  
There’s no reply, but she walks with you.  
  
  
 _You walk into the station to find her doing pull-ups on a door frame and you think that you seldom see her this calm. Her face is smooth and her body is working; muscles flexing and the tendons at her wrist sticking out sharply. Her entire body weight is hanging from her fingers, and you think of the nights when you would jump off balconies and catch yourself with magic over and over; just to prove that you could trust yourself._  
  
 _“Like what you see?”, she asks and of course she would be so vulgar, but her voice is strained as she drags her body up again, up up up until she faces the wall for a moment._  
 _Like all she depends on in this world are the one and a half inches door frame she is clinging to. Like she could be hanging from a roof top or a cliff or a balcony, and her arms would just pull her body up into safety as practiced._  
  
 _“Yes”, you tell her._  
  
  
“It’s so still”, she says after a while.  
  
“It is”, you agree.  
  
“I feel so....”  
  
She trails off but you know, you know. You link your arm with hers.  
  
  
 _“So, you remember that missing year completely?”_  
 _“Yes.”_  
 _She nudges you. “I’m sorry.”_  
 _You give her a tired smile. “I’m sure you could have done without some of your memories, too.”_  
 _She hesitates. “Your version of Christmas 2002 was much better.”_  
  
  
Emma has stopped walking, like she just remembered something important. You stop with her.  
  
“Are you all right?”, you ask in a low voice.  
  
She shrugs, and when her shoulders come down again, they look heavy and anxious.  
  
The night sky is peppered with stars, and melancholy has settled all over the both of you.  
  
You walk on.  
  
  
 _“Congratulations, I hear you’re a big sister now.”_  
  
 _“Thanks.”, she says, and turns to look out of the window. It’s raining outside, and you can barely hear her say to herself: “Am I, though?”_  
  
 _You wish you could - you just wish you could._  
  
  
“Here we are.”  
  
“Mmh”, she hums - it sounds more sleepy than drunk  - and doesn’t move an inch.  
  
You chuckle lowly. “Emma.”  
  
“Yeah.” She bumps into you a little. “Yeah.” One more deep breath. “I lied. Didn’t get lost.”  
  
“No?” Why does your voice feel so faint?  
  
“No. Not that drunk.”  
  
“You’re not?”  
  
“Am not.”  
  
She sways a little. Drunk enough, you think and maybe you smile.  
  
“Was on my way over.”  
  
You wait, but she doesn’t go on. Just breathes like the ocean and looks at you.    
  
“Was there something you wanted?”, you ask, carefully.  
  
“Mmh”, she makes again, and looks up at the sky. “Yes.”  
  
Her face is like silver, and galaxies, and still lakes.  
  
“What was it?”  
  
Emma closes her eyes, swaying on her feet.  
  
 _  
“Regina...”_  
  
 _“Yes?”_  
 _  
“...”_  
 _  
“Emma?”_  
  
 _“It’s nothing, forget it.”_  
  
  
And then she leans forward in one swift motion and kisses you right on the lips, lingering and sweet for four and a half beats of your heart.  
  
Something inside you bestirs itself like tiny bird spreading its tiny wings, stretching and fluttering...

  
“You look breathtaking.”, she finally says, “and I think I am in love with you.”  
  
  
She’s still a foot away, and she hesitates, but leans her forehead against yours for a moment like she just can’t help herself.  
 When she hums again, you can feel it vibrate through your skull and your spine and your soul.  
  
  
“I’ll start blaming this on the alcohol tomorrow. Okay? Tomorrow.”  
  
  
When she pulls away, you take her hands in yours; her eyes are full of stars and hope and night time blues.  
  
You say: “Then I hope tomorrow never comes.”  
  
You say: “Emma.”  
  
She feels so delicate beneath your thumbs when you take her face in your hands.   
  
Your heart is full of hope and love and galaxies.  



End file.
